


Warrior...Officer...Doctor

by SupremeMotherHen



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremeMotherHen/pseuds/SupremeMotherHen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holly's birthday is coming up and Gail is, as usual, panicking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> S/O to anyone that gets the title.

 I have a great wealth of knowledge when it comes to the law. I absolutely dominate the “law and order” section of Jeopardy, on family game night. Yes, it is a necessary aspect of being an officer and having said knowledge is simply doing my job but, I am proud of it. I can spout off statues, almost verbatim, just from memory. I can spot a moving violation from the furthest edge of the Milky Way and write a ticket at the speed of light. My parents had me reading them their rights, while doing one armed push-ups, every night before bed, until I even began to mumble them in my sleep. Granted, I never got too far with the push-ups but I've been reading people their rights since I could walk. I don't consider myself an idiot but I know my strengths. If there is anything Gail Peck knows, and it may not be much, I know the parameters of legality. 

            I am damn great at my job and I know the law, which is why I know that certain things _should_ be illegal. It should be illegal for Chris to cook anything, ever. It should be illegal for Dove and his chirpy, little ferret to make-out at the breakfast table. It should be illegal for my mother to hold weekly family interrogations, disguised as a dinner.  And it should be especially illegal for your new girlfriend's birthday to occur three weeks into your relationship.

            It wasn't a problem when Holly and I were just friends; I was going to buy her a few drinks, insult her a little less than usual and dole out a few dozen birthday punches and add on 10 more just to make her feel super old. This would be before or after she finished celebrating with her other highly esteemed, medical friends. It was a solid plan for people that had only become friends a few months prior. We were still in that stage of figuring each other out and learning how to act around each other. I had just learned that when Holly told me not to hesitate to call her if I needed something, even if it was three in the morning, she damn well meant it. And Holly just learned that I suck at basketball too but I can out run her any day. It was a comfortable, easy friendship but I had to go and fuck it up by falling for her. She fell for me too and was already sure about her lesbianism but it still, somehow, feels like my fault. Relationship things are usually my fault.

            One of the many things that I am terrible at, is being a girlfriend. Chris says so and Nick definitely says so, but I want to get it right this time. Holly's opinion matters more to me than anyone else and I don't want her joining the ranks of people that think I'm a shit girlfriend. With Holly, I put effort into our relationship, without even noticing it until I'm sitting in the dark, over analyzing my life choices. I go out of my way to make her laugh and to do kind gestures for her and it never feels like work. Just the thought of getting out of my comfortable bed, on my day off, to get Nick or Chris their favorite coffee because I knew they'd be working late, makes my head hurt. I've done It a few times for Holly, though. The first time was on a whim; I had to pick up my uniform from a dry cleaners down the street from her favorite dive coffee shop. The second, third and fourth times were to see that smirk/dimple combo she beams at me when I do something to please her. Maybe it's because dating a woman is a new frontier for me but, this feels different. Holly feels like more. I can't put my finger on what this “more” is but it makes me care for her to a point that I have never cared about any of my relationships. It can't be love – I'm pretty sure I loved Nick and it was never this intense. This has to be something different – obsession, maybe. Or maybe I didn't love Nick as much as I thought. 

            This leads to my latest dilemma: What am I going to do for Holly's birthday? I can't half-ass it but I don't want to overdo it either. I have to find a perfect balance of casual celebration mixed with ample pomp and circumstance. I'm also not ready for it to be a public affair. Not that I'm ashamed of her or our relationship, I just want her to myself for a little longer; no friends or family allowed. I've spent the last few days asking myself all of the important questions. _Do I buy her something? How much should I spend? What would she even want?_ So far, my brain is not helping. I thought to ask for help but my friends are idiots and I’m not letting their relationship advice anywhere near my perfectly functional – healthy even – relationship. I won't have them ruining my one good thing. There is one person I can ask but I know he won't ever let me live it down if I do. There is no way I'm giving Oliver that kind of ammo.

 

* * *

            My resolve not to ask Oliver for relationship help lasted all of two days. Holly's birthday is in twelve hours and I have gotten nowhere in my planning. She told me not to worry out it but I wasn’t falling for that. To be fair, I am sure that Holly actually meant what she said, she wouldn't be secretly angry with me if I chose not to do anything. She acknowledged that the timing was a little unfortunate since we hadn't even had our month-anniversary and didn't want me to stress over anything. She also warned me to never call it a 'Monthiversary' or she'd dump me before the 'abomination of a word' even left my mouth.  Holly was usually level-headed and understanding like that. She was honest and kind and funny and beautiful and more loveable than one person should have the right to be and I would not pass up an opportunity to make her happy, especially on her birthday.

            I pulled up Oliver's contact information, in my phone, two hours ago. My petulance and self-destructive nature had me second-guessing the decision but I can not deny that I need help here. He is the only person I know, with a stable enough relationship, to give me sound advice. _Fuck it._ I thought, pressing the 'call' icon on the touchscreen. It rang three times before he picked up. I almost gave up after the first ring went unanswered but I stuck it out for two more. I was even willing to leave a voice message, if it came to that. _I am fucking whipped._

            “Well if it isn't my little Petulant Peck,” He sang into the receiver. I almost hung up. “What can I do you for?”

            “I need some advice.” I mumbled back. Maybe if I talked softly enough, he'd give up and I could pretend that I actually tried. It was a feeble thought.

            “You're going to have to speak up, my dear. And quickly, I have to give the teenage-sized pain in my ass a ride to the mall.”

            “If you're busy, I can always call back.” I was ready to end the call. _Give me an out, Olly. Let me tell myself that I actually put forth effort._

            “No no no, you will not use my child to back out of whatever you called for,” He sounded serious and fatherly. “That's my job. You don't get to use em' as an excuse unless you helped birth em'. Thems is the rules.”

            I sighed into the receiver. “I need help.” I finally said, loud enough for him to hear this time.

            “Do mine ears deceive me or has my Petulant Peck called me,” He paused for dramatic effect. “For help?” he whispered the last part. I wanted to punch him.

            “Never mind.” I yelled at him. I'm sure the desperation I felt was seeping through my voice.

            “No no, I'm just messing with you, Gail. You know that.” He was back to his fatherly tone, with a hint of remorse. Serves him right. “Really, what can I do for you?”

            “It’s a relationship problem.” I forced myself not to whisper this time.

            “Is it Nicolas?” He sighed heavily. “Because I thought that walking train wreck was over. No offense kid but, you gotta stop beating that dead horse. Let that poor horse's ghost rest.”

            “No, I'm seeing someone else and I think its pretty serious. Kinda. I mean, it is serious, but its also kind of new so it isn't as serious right now. It has the potential to be really serious, I can feel it already, but it's too new to confirm the official, current, level of seriousness.” I took deep breathe. “Do you get that?” 

            “Hold on a sec.” He said before I heard him yelling at Izzy about something. There was some stomping and a door slam, followed by a sigh from Oliver. “I'm all about Women's Liberation but my seventeen year old is not leaving the house in a shirt that says 'SLUT' in big, block letters. I don't care if someone wore it on Arrested Development. Good show, but no can do. Not my baby.”

            “Can we get back to my issues?” I asked. If Izzy was annoyed, I'm sure I had just acquired more of Oliver's time. It's selfish but I need him. Izzy and her 'slut' shirt can wait.

            “Yes, relationship trouble. What did you do?” He asked so matter-of-fact that wanted to punch him all over again. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere with him.

            “I didn't do anything, you jackass.” I huffed at him for further effect. “I'm just not sure what I should do about something.”

            “My mistake Pecky-Peck,” He had the decency to sound sorry. “Lay it on me.”

            “Well,” _Now or never._ “I'm dating Holly. You know the forensic pathologist that worked the Robbie Robins case? We're seeing each other.” I was huffing so hard you'd think I had just run a marathon. Damn nerves. “Romantically.” I added to avoid confusion.

            “Aside from me owing Tracey a month of babysitting, I am happy for you. She seems like a good kid – a little weird, in a good way and kind of a dork, in an adorable way – but she makes you smile. That's all that matters, isn't it?” He was smiling; I could hear it in his voice. I wanted to hug him.

            “She is weird and a dork but I love it. And she's super smart, funny and lets me be me. Who knew that was my thing?” I sniffled. Where the hell had these tears come from?

            “Is that the problem? Are you afraid? I still love you the same, kid. And the rest can't think any less of you than they already do so no worries.” He chuckled. “Wait that was supposed to be joke but it was a bad one. You have friends that love you, Gail, and we'll be here for whatever. This is a non-issue.”

            “Her birthday is coming up tomorrow and I don't know what to do. We've only been official for a little less than a month and I'm not sure what a good girlfriend is supposed to do here. Holly says I shouldn't worry about it because of the shit timing but I still want to do something nice for her.” I hope he kept up because I said it all in one breathe. “And stick to the Dad jokes.”

            “This is the opposite of a problem Peckasaurus. You've got yourself a good girl and you wanna do something nice for her. There's never anything wrong with wanting to make your lady happy. Now, if she asked you not to do anything, then don't. Just respect her wishes and if said wishes were vague enough and you have the option of making a nice gesture, have at it.” His voice was soft but held a bit of humor, like he wanted to laugh at me.

            “I don't like your tone, Shaw.”

            “You're adorable, Peckalicious.” He chuckled. “I know you've had a terrible go at relationships but that's probably because none of your suitors were a decent fit. You can be a good girlfriend. You like this woman, Gail, just go with your heart here. You care and that's more than half the battle.”

            What do I even say to that? It's exactly what I needed to hear and I am so tired of him being able to do that. I can be a good girlfriend, I just need to care – and I do, so much. “What's with the names, Oliver?”

            “I've been mulling over a few. You like?”

            “Don't ever call me 'Peckalicious' again.”  I cringed at the way the word felt leaving my mouth. “Peckasaurus is pretty cool though – it makes me sound ferocious.”

            “Noted. Have we averted a crisis? Are you okay now?” This is why I love Olly, he's silly but he cares about me. He jokes but, in the end, he's reliable.

          “Almost.” I started. “I still don't know what I should do. I've never had to plan a birthday celebration for a girlfriend.”

            “That's the easy part; what does she like?” He asked distractedly. There was muffled whining in the background; Izzy must have come out of her room to argue again.

            “Wait,” My brain had finally caught up. “Why do you owe Tracy babysitting?”

            “Ah, you caught that. Tracy said you'd just let everyone find out about you and Holly at their own pace but I had confidence in you.” And he actually did sound proud. “I said that you'd explicitly tell me like the good surrogate daughter you are.”

            “So why do you owe her, that's not how bets are supposed to work?” I asked, still confused.

            “She covered for me last week when I had some issues with my bowels so the deal was; If she was right, I'd have to work her holiday shifts for the year but if I was right, I'd only have to babysit a few times.”

            “And how did you know about us?”

            He fully laughed this time. “You're not very subtle, Pecky Poo. Neither of you, actually. You should see the way you look at each other whenever she has to come to the station. It's so obvious it hurts. It’s also really freaking adorable.” He reigned in his laughter before asking, again. “So lay it on me, what does this one like?”

            “She likes a lot of things, how do I narrow it down?” I almost rolled my eyes at how pathetic I sound. I also made a note to be more subtle when I checked holly out in the squad room. 

            “Let's narrow it down a bit,” He started before yelling something back at Izzy. “Would she want a party or something intimate?”

            “Holly's not one for parties, which is funny because she's such a people person. I mean, she likes being around people about as much as I do but she's better with them than I am. They tend to like her, whereas I scare them off.” I caught myself gushing about her, again. “I think she'd prefer something intimate.” I finished, happy that Oliver couldn't see the redness in my cheeks.

            “How intimate? A small group of friends or just the two of you?” Oliver chocked down his laughter, I can tell he wanted to mock me but wisely picked his battle. “And I don't mean sex.” He added after I had been quiet for a little too long.

            “I don't really know her friends and I don't want her hanging around my gaggle of idiots any more than she has to so, just the two of us.” 

            “What do you like to do together?” He yelled something, I couldn't hear, again. More stomping and yet another door was slamming. God, Izzy is persistent. “And really, I don't mean sex.” He said, again, turning back to our conversation.

            “We like to do plenty of stuff together, but I don't think she's be down for going out.”

            “Why, is she closeted or something? I mean, it's cool if you're cool with it. Just asking.”

            “She is the furthest thing from closeted, she told me about her lesbianism the first day we met. Not in a random 'guess who's a lesbian' way, it just came up.” I smiled at the memory of that day. “She's just had a rough week is all. SVU cracked a trafficking ring and she's been the lead on examining the bodies they found. She's been in an understandably funky mood as of late.”

            “Why don't you focus on that? Cheer her up and celebrate her birthday. What does she do to cheer herself up after tough cases? We all have something, right? Hell, I can only imagine what she goes through; the only people she examines are beyond help. Sure, you can get justice for the dead but, they're still dead in the end. Can't be an easy job.”

            “Yeah,” I though back to a few nights ago when she hid under her covers and barely talked to me. I left after an hour of basically talking to a brick wall. She needed her space that time. “There were a few teenage girls in the group and it's been hitting her pretty hard. I hate that I feel this way.”

            “I'm sure she has it worse, kid. Let’s not make it about ourselves.” He chided me. “Don't Tyra it. I've been watching a lot of America's Net Top Model reruns, don't mind me.”

            “I know Olly but seeing her sad makes me really sad. I don't know what's wrong with me. When Nick was sad I just left the room and waited until he was seemingly fine again. I did pat him on the back once.”

            “You really care about her, that's what's wrong. When she hurts, you hurt, that's how love goes, kid.” He chuckled. “Sorry, kid.”

            “Nope, way too early to be talking about love. Back to you helping me.” Could I be in love already? Does this happen to all of the women that date women? If so, that really explains the lesbian U-hauling phenomena. 

            “Alright, what does she do to cheer herself up?”

            “She likes to go to the batting cages but I'm not embarrassing myself again.” I filed through our conversations, in my head, trying to find any mentions of things she does to decompress from the job. I know she likes to box and run when she's angry and get ice cream when she's happy, even though she's a tad lactose intolerant. She plays with her glasses and cracks her knuckles when she's nervous but what does she do when she's sad?

            Olly and Izzy had two more arguments, full of stomping and door slamming, before I figured it out. “I got it Olly.”

            “Lay it on me Peckasaurus.”

            “A little while ago, we were talking about college and the things we did to get through it all. I drank mostly but Holly is a super genius and started college when she was sixteen and she's a dork so she didn't bother drinking. She told me about this thing that she would do whenever she had a heavy workload and was stressed.” I jumped up started putting some clothes on, I only had a few hours to get everything ready. “I could recreate that and just add a birthday cake to the mix.”

            “Well, what is it?” He asked.

            “Not telling, but thank you for the help, Olly. I really would be lost without the help.”  The gratitude felt gross on my tongue but it was necessary. Oliver was like the father I always wanted to have, instead of my own.

            “No problem, Peckeroni. Glad to be of service. And don't hesitate to call when you need help. Especially relationship help because this one sounds lovely and I don't want you screwing it up.”

            “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Shaw. I gotta run to the store to get some things.”

            “Alright, go forth and good luck. Call me when it’s over and let me know how things went. And I mean it, you deserve good things and good people in your life that care about you, don't hesitate to ask for help.”

            “Will do. Thanks again.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed I had been sulking in. I pulled a shirt on, grabbed my wallet and my car keys and raced out of the apartment before Chris, Dove or Chloe could question me. _Here goes nothing._ I thought. I really hope this all goes well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping, panicking and accidental confessions.

PHASE 1: GET SUPPLIES

            The only thing I hate more than having to deal with horrible people is having to deal with horribly slow and always in the way people, while shopping. I detest malls for this very reason and only venture into one when absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, I had become one of those horribly slow and always in the way people, today. Even more unfortunately, I had to travel to my closest mall because there was no way for me to drive all across town, get everything in place and still have energy for tonight. I had ten hours until Holly's official birthday at midnight and even less to buy everything and assemble it. This left little time for me to research different brands. I had no time to scour Amazon reviews to determine the integrity of certain brands. I had no time to compare prices or find any sales. I already knew that I should not have left it all to the last minute but the hands on my watch kept slapping me back in to reality every time I glanced down and saw how little time I really had left.

            I stood outside of Pottery Barn in what I can only describe as an upright fetal position. My face scrunched at the look of it all and my insides scrunched at the thought of even entering. The color scheme of the store was a kind of pastel pink and a color that was white but you just knew the pretentious designer called them something ridiculous like 'Salmon with Slight Albinism' and Crisp Ocean Foam', because pink and white were far too plain for their expensive tastes. There were plastic flowers everywhere that were no doubt sprayed with perfume to enhance the atmosphere and set the mood. It looked like a place Chloe would hang out in, on the weekends, just for fun. It looked like Martha Stewart on cocaine. The aesthetic of it all made me sick, but the look was really the least of my problems with this place. All of the employees look like actual Stepford Wives. They look like those kiosk people that stop you in the middle of your shopping trip to spray you with perfume. And you want to punch them but they have, technically, been nothing but nice so you feel kind of bad for thinking of hitting them in the first place, but then they start talking again and you feel less bad about wanting to drop them like a bad habit. The customers really aren't any better; they all look like they're waiting on their Stepford invitations. There are smiling housewives that look like they are rotting on the inside from having to be so damn 'sweet' all of the time, there are ornery toddlers that look like they really want to take a nap or they really want to murder someone and there are your run -of-the-mill twenty-something’s that look like they're picking up some supplies to do a DIY project they found on Pinterest. It's really gross.

            Suppressing the urge to vomit and run, I trudge on into the store. It does not take long for a Stepford sales employee to come to my aid. She had a sickeningly sweet smile on her face, showing off her perfectly straight and blindingly white teeth. Her makeup was more Southern pageant girl but it worked with the picnic blanket sundress and cork wedge heels she wore. The only thing this visual was missing was a tray of homemade sweet tea and a picket fence. I have never hated my tendency to put things off more than I did now.

            “Hello there,” she said in a painfully Canadian accent. “Can I help you with anything today?”

            “No,” My disgust must have been clear because her smile faltered a second and she looked a bit scared of me. “I'm fine really.” I said, plastering a smile on my own face. It was forced and painfully fake but she accepted the gesture. She did nothing wrong, I shouldn’t be scaring her off. I can just imagine Holly saying Way to be a grown up Gail. Her close proximity has been forcing me to be a more agreeable adult and I can't say that I hate it too much. I got an extra free burger and order of fries, last week, for being unnecessarily kind to our waiter when he spilled a cup of water in my lap. Even though he was an idiot. And I'm usually lenient with waiters, having been one, but that guy was plain incompetent.

            “Alright then, don't hesitate to ask for help.” She seemingly floated away, to the next customer that looked like they were lost.

            I wandered around the store for about fifteen minutes before I relented and asked for help. The flowers _had_ been sprayed with perfume and it was burning the hell out of my nose, which was sure to be red by now. The bright white of the walls and lights that I'm assuming were set to represent sunlight, hurt my eyes. It all gave me a headache which in turn, nauseated me a bit. On top of it all, I could not figure out what to buy. There was too much to choose from and I wasn't sure which color scheme I should go for. Was Holly more of a pastel person or did she like patterns? Her condo was full of deep mahogany and rich red velvets but those were all from the previous owner that let her keep the furniture because he thought she was hot. If it were up to her, Holly would have an air mattress in the middle of the living room, a book shelf and a television. She was a simple woman, just happy to have her own place; a phrase she actually used to describe herself, the first time she invited me over.

            I approached the sales woman that ambushed me when I walked in. “Excuse me,” I looked down for a name-tag. “Wren.” Didn't see that name coming. She looked more like a Sarah Beth.

            “Hello there.” She looked more than a little surprised to see me. “Can I help you with anything?” She asked in that practiced, customer service voice, though it did sound a bit more sincere when she said it.

            “I need pillows and a few coffee mugs.” I made an effort to sound friendly.

            “Our home accessories section is over here,” She gestured to her left like a Price is Right model. “And all ceramics are in the far back.”

            I sighed. She wasn't getting it. “I know where it all is,” I pointed to isle markers hanging from the ceiling, which labeled the different sections. “I don't know which ones I should get. Can you help with that? I’m Gail, by the way.”

            “Oh,” Wren beamed even brighter than I would have thought possible – even for her. “I can certainly help you with that. Can you tell me a little about the place you're buying for?”

            “It's not so much a place, but a situation.”

            “I can help with that too. Tell me about it.” Smile still in place. Her cheeks must hurt constantly.

            “My girlfriend’s birthday is tomorrow and I want to I want to have a little celebration today because she has to work tomorrow. She has to work every day in the near future, actually. Unless there’s a break in the case or she has a meltdown. Whichever comes first.”

            “Isn't that just sweet,” She squealed and squeezed my arm. “We have to make sure this is just perfect.” Wren ushered me into the home accessories section. “Tell me about her. Tell me everything.”

            I spent the next few minutes explaining my plan and telling this woman everything I know about Holly. Well, everything reasonable enough to tell a sales associate at Pottery Barn. If possible, her smile grew by the minute. She looked at me all doe eyed and sweet. It was a little unnerving.

            “She sounds very special to you.” Wren said.

            “She is and I want this to be perfect, which is why I can't buy the wrong thing.”

            “Well, according to you, Holly is a simple person. The only thing she likes expensive is her wine and medical/sciencey tools. She has eclectic tastes in the things that she bothers to have an opinion in and she's a 'go with the flow' kind of girl in everything else. Am I correct?”

            “Very correct.” I answered, bewildered. Did I really gush that much or is Wren just that good?

            “So, I highly doubt it is possible for you to buy the wrong thing. This is the kind of woman that would be happy with a piece of string, if it came from you.” She looked around thoughtfully. “But we want to make sure that she's not just appreciative of your effort – we want her to be comfortable.”

            “Yes,” I almost yelled. “I want her to like it – and I know she will because she is really easy to please – but I want her to enjoy it.” Wren had put my hopes and fears into words. It was comforting to be able to verbalize it all.

            “You are too cute!” She smiled at me some more. It didn't bother as much this time.

            “What should I buy?”

            “Holly sounds like she'd marvel at high thread count and plush, but she'd be too afraid to relax on anything. It would make her uncomfortable and that is not want we want. Are you following this?”

            “Yes, I'm still with you.”

            “What we're gonna do is go cheap, random and comfy.”

            I chuckled. “Add cute and smart and you've essentially described Holly.”

            “We want to recreate her college experience, right?” I nodded. “And I highly doubt she had a color scheme and unless she had a rich roommate, she was dealing with cheap, well-loved items.” I nodded again. “So, I want you to head to the clearance section and just pick up random pillows that look comfortable. It will all look like she came back to her dorm and just picked up anything she could find. That's what we're trying for, am I right?” Yet another nod for me.

            I got moving as soon as Wren stopped talking. Sifting through the bin to, I picked up a white pillow with yellow, pink and light blue polka dots, two small black ones, an extra-large one with flowers printed on it and three medium sized pillows with rainbows printed across them. I stuffed them into my arms and carried them up to the counter. Wren made her way over, pushed them to the side and ushered me over to the ceramics section.

            “We're going for the same thing here,” She pulled out a step stool and one of those grabber thingies. “We need random and cute.”

            We both spent the next twenty minutes browsing through ceramic mugs, bowls and even vases. Nothing stood out and screamed 'buy me you idiot'. They all looked perfectly nice and normal – which is not something I would associate with Holly. I needed quirky and fun. I needed something that looked like I was desperate for any concave dish and picked up what I could find. Wren searched every nook and cranny of every shelf. She pulled put mugs with witty phrases and funny pictures; she climbed the step stool and reached the grabber up as high as her arm would go to grab the watermelon shaped bowl on the top shelf. I didn't like any of it.

            Wren stretched her arms above her head; working out the kinks she acquired helping me. “I'd be happy to recommend another store – all we have left are ash trays.” She said.

            Neither of us smokes but I looked over anyway and thank goodness I did because I found them. There was a set of ashtrays shaped like dog bones; one had a hand-painted 'Spike' and the other said 'Ruff'. They were perfect. “I'll take these.” I yelled behind me.

            I picked them up and walked to the counter, to the rest of my stuff. Wren followed behind me, looking a tad bit annoyed at me and sore. I would be too if I spent twenty minutes looking for cups and then my customer picked dog bone shaped ashtrays.

            “I like it,” Wren announced, once she settled behind the checkout desk. “I feel like I should have thought of this.”

            “That's why she's my girlfriend I guess.”

            “You're _really_ cute.”

            “Yes, you've told me.” I smiled back this time. And not one of those curtsey smiles you give so people stop asking you what's wrong, but a real one because I am happy with my purchases and Wren has been a wonderful help.

            “Let's get you checked out.” Wren began scanning the items and placing them in to the bags with more care than a stack of pillows need. She wrapped the ashtrays in several pieces of tissue paper then stuffed them in between two pillows. “That'll be $30.50.”

            “Alright,” I pulled out my wallet and started sifting through bills. “Wait, the ashtrays are $15 each, the small pillows are $5 each and the big one is $10.”

            “I haven't used my employee discount since I started working here and you're cute.”

            “You don't have to do this Wren.”

            “Yes I do. I want you and your Holly to have a nice night. Think of this as my good deed for the year.” The clerk snatched my debit card out of my hands and swiped for me. “And take these sheets on the house,” She pulled some white sheets from behind her and placed them in the bags, as well. “Just get a couple chairs and drape these over. They’re cheap so don’t worry about getting them messy.”

            “You are persistent.” I took the keypad and entered my pin. Wren handed me my bags with the biggest smile yet. It took some maneuvering to fit them all in my arms while still being able to see.

            “Have a nice night, Gail.”

            “Thanks,” I answered on my way out of the store. “I totally gonna leave you a nice Yelp review.” I added before exiting.

            It took all of ten minutes to run back to my car, deposit the bags and run back into the mall. I checked one of the mall maps looking for a Richard's Sporting Store. It is all the way on the other side of the mall. I had to speed walk through the food court, take a shortcut through a Macy's and make a left at the Hollister. I manage to chuckle at 'Hollister' even while I pinched my nose, trying to avoid the smell. Imagine your girlfriend having the same name as your least favorite store. Imagine introducing Pac Sun to your parents – you call her Sunny for short, though.

            This is the easy part – all I need is an affordable, self-inflating raft that I can carry out of the store tonight. How hard could that be? I took even less time to find the outdoor section than I thought. Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how you want to view the situation – the sales people in here are a lot less friendly than Wren. No one bum rushed me on my way to the rafts. They didn't even bother me when I shuffled around the isles, squinting at the annoyingly small price tags. I won't be leaving any Yelp reviews for this place.

            After five minutes, I found two Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' children rafts, on the clearance shelves. The boxes were a little mangled but the rafts were in tact and they were pretty cheap. I hauled them into a cart and pushed them to the soulless looking cashier. It looked like the job had taken her will to live. She mechanically scanned the items of the couple in front of me and keyed in the coupons they brought with them. The couple whined about the prices for a time but relented and paid in small bills. Waiting in line took longer than the actual shopping did. I checked the time on my watch and cringed – only eight and a half more hours left until Holly's birthday and five hours until I had to have everything set up.

            “Ma'am” Said a bored voice. I look up to see the couple on their way out of the store. I move forward and place my items on the counter. The cashier, Kesha, scanned my items much like the couple before and rung m up. “These have been here for a while so the store offers an extra 75% off. Your total is $200.38”

            “Today is my lucky day I guess.” I smiled at Kesha, handing her my debit card. She grabbed the card, swiped it and handed me the keypad. She didn't bother to return the smile. Kesha had definitely lost the will to live. Poor woman needs to get herself a Holly.

            “Have a nice day.” Kesha said, not even remotely sounding like she meant it.

            “Thank you.” I hurried out of the store before it dampened my mood.

            It wasn’t until I was back in my car that I realized the major flaw in my plan. I had thought of everything except the most important part – How the hell am I going to get in to Holly's place?

            I pull over to the side of the road and fish my phone out of my center console. I don't even have to scroll through to find Holly's name because I have a few texts from her in my inbox. My cheeks hurt instantly from the smile that springs to my face.

            _Hollister: I'm so hungry I might nibble on one of these bodies._

_Hollister: Wait, that was gross even for me._

_Hollister: How has your day off been treating you?_

            The last one was sent twelve minutes ago. Hopefully she's still free to talk. Ugh, that's what I get for leaving my phone in the car. I tap her name, hit Call and wait. Luckily for me, she picks up on the third ring.

            “Hello officer. Working hard?” Hearing her voice is like finally taking a breath of air after being submerged under water all day.

            “This bed isn't gonna sleep in itself, is it? Gotta protect the people.” I say.

            “And I see you've been protecting hard, today. I was beginning to think I wouldn't hear from you for a while.” She almost sounds like she's pouting. God I love her voice.

            “Actually I'm out right now. I ventured into the big bad mall for a few things.”

            “And made it out alive? My hero.” Holly laughs in my ear.

            “Ha ha, Hollister.” I try and fail to sound annoyed at her. “But I called you for a reason.”

            “Do not call me that,” She grumbles, like she always does when I use her full name. “And what do you want?”

            “This is why you should not have told me your full name.” I say. “And I'm pretty sure I left my spare badge at your place and I need it for tomorrow.”

            “I'm getting back pretty late tonight and I know you work the early shift tomorrow.” She sounds contemplative. “If you're already out, you can swing by and get my key. You can look for your badge and bring it back.” Bingo! Just what I was hoping she'd say.

            “Perfect, I'll come by now, if that's okay.”

            “I've been on my feet all day so I'm taking a little break now. I'll probably get some candy out of the vending machine and sugar load.” She sighs, sounding tired.

            “How about I stop at that taco place you like and bring you something to eat?”

            “I would build a shrine in your honor worship you.”

            “But you already do that.” I say. Smiling from ear to ear now.

            “Less talky, more getting me tacos-y. Go forth and feed me Abigail.”

            “Only because it's your birthday tomorrow.” I say putting the car back in drive. “I'm driving now; see you in about 20 minutes.”

            “Thank you so much, really. Today has been sucking.” Holly sounds more defeated than I've ever heard her.

            “Well I'm on my way to make your day suck a little less.” I tell her.

            “You really are my hero.” She chuckles. “Bye.”

            “Bye. Love you.” It falls out before I stop it. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I try to think of something – anything – that rhymes with 'Love you' but nothing comes to me and honestly, I don't really hate that I said it.

            After what feels like an eternity, I hear a dial-tone. Holly must have hung up. Is that good or bad? Did she not hear me? Did she say it back and I just didn't catch it? Shit, no time to panic over this, I have to get moving before traffic gets congested. A few deep breaths later, I'm back on the road not having a panic attack over accidentally telling my girlfriend of less than a month that I love her.

            Peck up, Gail!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally made this story longer than I planned so it will be about 4-5 parts.   
> Yes there will be more Holly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunchtime shenanigans.

"She's beauty, she's grace, she's putting food in my face; she's Abigail – whatever your middle name is – Peck." Holly cheered, waving her arms around like she was starting a one woman wave. Her always smug smile was in place, hair was tied back in one of those low ponytails I love, and her glasses were slightly crooked after all of her flailing, there were makings of dark circles under her eyes and her work clothes were wrinkled. She looked absolutely exhausted and couldn't have been more beautiful even if she tried.

I was directed to the staff break room as soon as I walked in and verified my visit. Walking through the halls to get there was like navigating an aggressive high school, in between periods. It was the most crowded I have ever seen this place. Aside from being crowded, everyone looked like they were the busiest they had ever been in their lives. The entire staff was what I would expect productive zombies to look like; even the security guards looked haggard. The professionals were frantic and looked almost haunted at what they were witnessing and the interns looked terrified and nauseated. With the Chief Examiner away, Holly was among those that were placed in charged; she had to be strong for the sect she was in charge of overseeing. Tired or not, she had to be strong for her group of little nerds. It was taking it's toll, I could see it in her eyes. That was one thing about Holly; she was great at putting on a brave face and pretending to be alright but her eyes always gave her away, if you knew what to look for. I was learning.

"You are exceptionally strange, today," I tell her placing the bag of food on the table. I still wasn't sure what Holly's usual order was so I got a bit of everything. I hadn't noticed that I was hungry too until I smelled the fresh tortillas, so I got myself a burrito. Holly would either eat all of it herself –which I have seen her do – or she would share the left-overs with her favorite intern, Priya. I placed a plastic plate in from of her and started placing random, paper covered tacos in front of her. I did remember her drink of choice and got two Arnold Palmers for both of us.

"Today has been exceptionally strange to me so, I thought I'd return the favor." Holly was stretched across two chairs, with a rolled up sweater on the second, elevating her feet. She didn't even bother to get up and hug me, which meant she was entirely spent. Because Holly is a hugger, when she likes you, and she bypass a chance to hug her girlfriend, who brought her food. Or maybe it was that thing I said earlier, that I still hope she managed not to hear.

"Well it's a good thing I came with sustenance. Can you manage a lunch break or should I get going? I see everyone is still running around like chickens with their heads cut off. "

"Speaking of decapitation," She joked – I hope. "A new shipment of bodies just came in, in various forms of decomposition, so we are even busier than before. But I can spare half an hour for my lady."

"Gross segue aside, I'd love to stay." I pulled a chair from the adjacent table and sat. I pulled out more paper-covered tacos and placed them in front of Holly. It took a minute to find my own burrito, under all of the sauce packets and napkins.

"Jesus, Gail, how much did you buy?" Holly marveled at the selection lying on the table. She not-so-subtly started inching most of the horde to her side of the table. "I'm totally paying you back for this." She ripped the paper off of her first victim and dug in, ripping chunks off like her life depended on it and moaning at the flavor. Anyone listening in would have thought there was some very violent but pleasurable sex happening in here.

"Nope," I say, ripping into my own meal. "Consider it a birthday present and think nothing of it. I even got a discount when I told the cashier it was for you. I think she has a crush." I can feel hostility rising at the memory of the cashier perking right the hell up at my absentminded mention of Holly. I really wanted to punch her.

"She definitely has a crush, she asked me out about a month ago." Holly managed to make talking while shoving food in her mouth, like an animal, look classy. She was relentless and finished her first taco – the plain one – before I got to the third bite of my burrito. "But she's nineteen. Gross age gap aside, she still lives with her parents and doesn't know any Spice Girls lyrics, it wouldn't have worked."

Damn children hitting on my girlfriend. How dare she? Apparently Holly can sense my irritation because one-hands her next taco and reaches across the table to pat my hand. "Don't worry Gail; she could never spice up my life like you."

"She probably doesn't even know what that means." I mumble in-between bites. I swear I'm not blushing at a cheesy Spice Girls reference.

"I'd never let her zigga zig my ah – or however the Hell you say that." I almost choke on a piece of lettuce. Holly pulls her spare hand back and continues eating like she didn't just make an overtly sexual comment. We haven't had sex yet – not due to lack of desire – but because of our shitty, conflicting work schedules, since we made it official and because we're both being weird about the whole friends-to-girlfriends transition. I've been getting more hands-y during make-out sessions and she'd been making more vaguely sexual comments about us. We're both toeing the line until one of us crosses it.

"You're a dork." I finally say. She smirks like she knows what I was just thinking about – she probably does.

"No insulting the birthday girl." She tosses a taco sauce packet at my face and nails me right between the eyes. It drops from my forehead and falls into my shirt, right in the cleavage. I'm not really surprised though, the department dodge ball tournament taught me how scarily accurate her aim can be.

"It's not your birthday yet, I can insult you as much as I want until midnight. I'll lay off tomorrow." She watches me pick the packet out of my bra and doesn't even flinch when I toss it back. The little minx is too busy staring at my boobs. I miss her by, at least, half a foot – surprising absolutely no one. "My eyes are up here, doctor."

"Well yeah but your rack is down there." Her eyes don't waver and that shit eating grin makes its way to her face. "I like what I'm seeing. Send my complements to your parents."

"Don't objectify me," I say, though I'm making no move to cover myself up. "I know you took a Women's Studies class; I know you know better. Or do we have to revisit that embarrassing story about you coming on to that professor when she was just gonna ask you to make cupcakes, for a fundraiser? Should I go there, Hollister?" Her eyes fly to the ceiling and her cheeks turn beet red; score 1 for Gail.

"Anyway, how has your day off been treating you?" She changes the subject. "Aside from you venturing into the dangerous lands of shopping center Hell." Her eyes make their way back to mine and I really wish she'd stare back at the ceiling; she's so pretty its overwhelming, sometimes.

"Aside from my perilous journey into the great abyss, I have done nothing worth noting. A lot of sleeping, two showers and a bath, two boxes of pizza and my body weight in fruit smoothies. If I didn't have to work tomorrow, the smoothies would be tequila but I'm trying out this whole 'responsible adult' thing."

"Gail Peck's day off seems to be going swimmingly." She opens her third – or forth – taco and rips open a sauce packet. My burrito decided to disassemble, so I reach into the bag for a fork.

"Yes it is. If only everyday could be Gail's day off." Holly doesn't bother to say anything for an uncomfortable amount of time. Maybe I would have noticed her preoccupation if I wasn't searching, in vain, for a spare plastic fork but when I look up, she's staring at this taco like she wants to run and barf.

"Do you not like avocado?" I ask. "Because I've seen you eat it before."

She looks up with a dazed expression. "Huh?"

"You okay, Holls?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." And she's not fine. Her smile isn't even slightly convincing and she starts packing up the rest of her food, with this conflicted look on her face.

"Am I supposed to pretend I actually believed that?"

"Don't worry about it Gail." She pulls her feet off of the pare chair, for the first time since I arrived. She stretches her arms above her head and leans over, with her elbows on her thighs.

I'm panicking. I don't know how to deal with these things – I usually leave the room and wait until things blow over. But I have to try because this is Holly and I don't want her to worry or to hurt or whatever the hell is wrong with her right now. "You can talk to me, you know." I tell her in a small voice. I almost hope she didn't hear me. It's like when you tell someone a secret and you hope they didn't hear because you're worried about the aftermath. I want her to trust me enough to tell me things and for her to have faith that I can make her feel better but I also want her to run far away before I can make things worse.

Holly takes a deep breath and rubs at her sleepy eyes. It's not one of those adorable times, when she looks like a sleepy kitten – its almost like she's trying to gouge her eyeballs out or erase something from them. I, carefully, reach over to remove her glasses before she manages to break them. She doesn't bat my hands away or smirk at my concern for her eye wear. This is bad. "I'm just gonna finish my burrito and give you some time." And I do just that – I hunker down and finish my meal. I almost feel bad but the sudden drama of the situation did nothing to put a damper on my appetite.

"Our labs have to be sterile, so everything is a cold, hard surface. Our gear is made to be practical and leaves little room for playfulness. The labs are required to have a certain soulless professionalism. Everyone that comes here sees the hallways so we leave them bare and clean. But the offices and break-rooms are our sanctuaries. We paint them playful colors, add plush furniture and throw a cartoon or two in them to lighten the mood. Its like when the Navy goes on a search and rescue mission, the kitchen staff consults with a psychologist and builds the menu accordingly. They get rid of things with bones or anything that may resemble human remains. Like blood." She glances at the taco sauce during the last part. It was quick, but I caught it.

"Holly," I try.

"No, you sound guilty but you shouldn't. You didn't know." She smiles at me for reinsurance. "I see horrible things on my best day, you couldn't have known. Hell, I didn't even know until a few minutes ago. Priya had to leave earlier after she had a nervous breakdown over a chicken wing that reminded her of the four-year-old we examined last night. I thought I was fine, I just realized that I'm not really. And then I had two other interns pass out after one of the bodies exploded a little. And I'm kind of pissed, under any other circumstance that would have been pretty freaking cool."

"I'm so sorry you have to deal with this. I'd destroy all of the bad guys in the world, if I could. You'd be out of a job then but you're smart, you'd find something else to do. Maybe you'd be a famous softball player that finds a cure for cancer, in your spare time."

"Say you're a drug dealer," She starts, after a few minutes of painfully uncomfortable silence. It's a strange jump but I go with it. "Like any owner of a start-up, you work out of your home. There are pills, powders and various drugs, in their various forms, strewn about. Now, one of you employees, who just so happens to be a friend, calls you and say that the police had just visited him, they questioned him about his connection to you and they have another one of you employees down at the station. He tells you that they left a few minutes ago and he's calling you from a burner phone he only uses in emergencies."

"Who told you about my side job? Was it Dove? He could never keep his mouth close." I joke. Holly gives me a look that wipes my smile off. I mean, I'm annoying but she never looks at me like she really is annoyed with me – until now. I hold my hands in surrender and wait for her to finish.

"If you're smart – and you are," She winks at me. "What do you do next?"

"Dump the product." I answer immediately. "Obviously they know who I am and what I've been up to so I dump the product. Then I disappear without a trace."

"Exactly!" She says as if that explains it all.

"I am so confused, Holly. Am I helping you with something?"

"That's what this guy is doing; but in this situation, the product is actual human beings."

"People suck." I wish I could say something to make all of this better for her. But really, nothing will. Even if/when they catch the people responsible, it won't revive those women or undo all of the torture they endured, for however long they were being held captive.

"Why do we even try anymore?" It's a rhetorical question. "Even when we win, we lose."

"When you help the FBI find these guys, just think of all the women he would have abducted. Think about how they're free to be happy and to love and to just live. They'll never even have to know that they could have been captured – they just get to live happily, oblivious to that fact. And it will be because of you and your motley crew of ragtag nerds and their trusty microscopes." That part gets a chuckle out of her and it sounds too sweet to be real.

"You're the real nerd here." She tells me and reaches over to pinch my knee.

"I mean it though," I pull her hand into mine, making sure not to lace our fingers because she hates that. "You do good work here – great work. You get justice for the wronged and save other potential victims. It may not feel good, because you're constantly surrounded buy bodies or pieces of bodies but, you save people. Don't ever forget that. Okay?"

She ducks her head but squeezes my hand, letting me know that she's listening. "Don't mind me," She tells me. "I get like this sometimes, it's good though, reminds me that I'm still human and I still care. My professors always told us that if we had to suck it up and get over ourselves but if we ever stopped feeling this this – from time to time – we should hand in our scalpels.

"Hand in your scalpel is the nerdiest phrase I have heard in a very long time and I've been hanging out with you so that's saying something." That gets another smile out of her.

"Crap," She looks at her watch and sighs. "Time's up Peck." I check my phone to see that its already been thirty minutes.

"Time sure does fly when you're contemplating that shitty-ness of the world."

"That it does." She goes about cleaning the rest of her area. She still isn't happy but she looks better. Hopefully tonight will help even more.

"Almost forgot." Holly tosses me her house key. I don't manage to catch it but it falls directly into my cleavage and sinks into my bra. "You can just hold on to it until tomorrow, I have a spare."

"Why are you so good at that?" I mumble, trying to sound offended. I'm not, really.

"Do you want an honest answer?" She asks, with that her patent smirk.

"There is an honest answer to that?"

"My first girlfriend and I were friends before we started dating. Even when we were just friends, other people would call us the 'Odd Squad'. To be fair, we were a really strange couple. Not drinking each other's blood strange but ridiculously silly strange." Holly spots my small frown at the mention of a previous girlfriend and pinches my cheek. If I'm blushing, it's only because I'm angry and not because I secretly love her cheek pinches. I don't. "Anyway, we were hanging in my dorm one day and it was really hot –like unholy, hot. The central air-conditioner had broken that morning and we had to wait in our rooms until the maintenance crew finish fixing it. Alycia took off her shirt and was just sitting there in her bra while I finished some Biology homework. I'm immersed in my homework and she started getting bored so she went to my mini-fridge and pulled out some grapes. She starts popping them in her mouth and got this great idea. Long story short: We had a contest to see who could toss the most grapes into the other one's bra."

"You lost, didn't you?" I ask.

"I didn't say that." She counters, incredulously.

"No, but if you won, you would be gloating about it."

"No comment." She tosses another sauce packet my way. I try to dodge it but it ends up smacking me in the forehead.

"Just for that, you're not getting a good-bye kiss. Throw that into my bra." I smirk like have all the power in the world. But the smirk is met with a pout from Holly and I cave before I even have a chance to be embarrassed about it. I make quick work of the space between us and grip her shirt like a lifeline. Holly's lips are plump but not overbearing for mine, soft and Holly knows exactly how much pressure to apply. It's not a very passionate kiss but one that feels safe, like Holly is trying to remind herself that she is here and so am I and everything will be okay. Eventually.

"Thanks for this." She says when we part. Her forehead rests against mine and it feels like she's using me to hold herself up. I don't mind. "The food, I mean. And the kiss."

"Any time." I tell her and I mean it more than anything. "I should get going myself." I really do need to leave if I want everything setup when she gets home, but Holly doesn't need to know that part.

"Oh yes, the quest of the missing badge is still upon you. Go forth and prosper, little one." Holly manages to let go of me. I hadn't even noticed the way her arms held me – a little too tightly.

"I'm an inch shorter than you and only a few years younger."

"I could have babysat you." She counters.

"Barely."

"But still." The smirk is back in place.

"Yeah," pick up my phone make my way to the door. "I'm leaving."

"Bye." She beams her pearly whites at me and I leave before she can see the smile it elicits from me.

Now I just have to head back to Holly's, drag everything up the steps and figure out how to set it all up.

Oh, boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go.


End file.
